


The Food of Love

by LadyCorvidae, roseforthethorns



Series: Don't Stand So Close to Me [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dinner, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kids fighting, M/M, Refereeing fights, Sherlolly - Freeform, Snogging, Teasing, Worstan, implied sex, mystrade, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCorvidae/pseuds/LadyCorvidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the families and children getting together for dinner.</p><p>(I own nothing of these characters. All Sherlock rights go to the BBC, Moffat, and Gatiss. I'm just having some fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Food of Love

Molly smiled as she walked up the path to Greg and Mycroft's lovely house. She was so happy that she had gained another 'father', although it was a little weird to think of Mycroft as that, seeing as she was related to him by marriage now as well.

"Come on, Miranda, hurry up!" she called over her shoulder. She adjusted little William on her hip; the eighteen-month-old was growing fast.

"Coming, Mummy!" the raven haired girl chirped, pulling Sherlock along behind her. "Come _on_ , Daddy!"

"I am, I am," he laughed, scooping her up onto his shoulders.

Molly's smile broadened into a grin as she saw her daughter squeal happily atop Sherlock's wide shoulders. "Make sure to duck when you walk in. Don't want you bumping your head on the top of the door, now do we?" she said. William tugged on her sleeve to gain her attention. He babbled a rapid stream of words at her; the most she could catch was 'Gampa' and 'Cwoft'... talking about his grandfather and Mycroft; although, to be honest, Mycroft was technically his uncle.

"I know, Mummy! No bumps this time," the girl giggled, grabbing tight to her Daddy's head.

Molly laughed. "Sherlock, dearest, you have the strangest hat," she said.

"I'm aware, my princess. And I believe she has a weak spot," he grinned, reaching up and tickling Miranda's ribs.

Miranda squealed and flailed atop Sherlock's shoulders. "Well, if you have a hat, I suppose I should have one too," Molly stated. Scooping William up, she set him atop her head, making the toddler gurgle with delight.

Beaming and laughing, they reached the door just in time for a blonde whirlwind in skirts to come bolting up the path and launch itself at the doorbell. "I'm first!!!" the girl cried proudly.

"Hullo Rosie!" Molly said as she set William down to toddle down the path, the boy exclaiming "JawnJawnJawnJawn!" with rapturous joy. He was very attached to his godfather. "You _did_ get here fast; I could barely see you!"

"I'm the fastestest person in the whooooole world. Right, Daddy?"

"That you are, my little Rosie," John grinned, scooping up William from the path and throwing him gently into the air. "And _how's_ the big boy, hmm? Larger every day. What do you feed him? Growth hormones?"

William crowed with laughter. "Mummy food," he said, nodding.

Molly laughed. "He does like his carrots," she said. "Wonderful to see you John. And you as well, Mary!" Sherlock grinned as he set down Miranda.

"If you'll hand my son back to Molly, I can greet you properly, old friend," the scholar said, helping pass off William and wrapping John in a bear hug.

John returned the hug as best he could, the shorter man lifted slightly off the ground by Sherlock. He clapped the tall, thin scholar on the back. "Sherlock! Always good to see you," he wheezed as his breath was squeezed out of him.

"You should really cut back on your portions, or you'll be as big as Mike Stamford-"

John scowled and elbowed Sherlock in the ribs. "Shut it you. You've got some extra padding yourself," he said, poking his friend in the stomach.

"Oi! You two. Stop it or I'll start clonking heads," Mary interjected, ruffling John's hair affectionately and punching Sherlock lightly on the arm. "The next time you decide it's a good idea to 'play dead' with Rosie, you answer to me."

John swallowed. "Yeah. Nearly scared the piss out of me too," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he rubbed his arm. "Promised I wouldn't again, now didn't I? It isn't _my_ fault that the resident doctors forgot to take my pulse for five minutes-"

"Well I was consoling my daughter at the time! _You_ decided to be a prick and not _move_ for five minutes to make her stop!" John grumbled.

"Are you all going to stand on the front path arguing or are any of you _actually_ hungry?"

"GRANPA!"

"UNCLE GREGGY!!!"

"Gampa!"

With a parting poke at Sherlock's ribs, John, Mary, Molly and all their respective children walked into the house, hugs being dispensed and greetings passed around. Sherlock was the last in, closing the door behind him with a dull - _thunk_ -. "Mycroft."

The older man greeted him with a nod. "Sherlock. Glad you could join us."

"You're looking rather larger than when I last saw you. Putting on weight again?"

Mycroft scowled. "So have you. Six pounds. Molly, apparently, is feeding you well."

"I've been cooking for her. Surely you can see that."

"Only for the past week. You take turns."

"It's because of my newest research project-"

"If you two don't quit preening, it'll be a time out!" Greg nudged Mycroft in the ribs before offering his hand to Sherlock. "Glad you and Molly could join us tonight."

Molly went and hugged her adoptive father. "So glad to see you, Daddy," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

He squeezed her tight and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I always miss you, my darling."

"Then we'll just have to visit more often, won't we?" she said, smiling as Greg picked up William.

"And _how_ is my precious little princeling, hmmm?"

"Gampa! Wuv Gampa!" William said, showing off his four teeth and drooling all over his jumper as he wrapped his pudgy little arms around Greg's neck.

Chuckling, the old Headmaster hugged the child close, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "And I love _you_ , little prince."

"Daddy, why does Grampa call Will a prince? Does that mean I'm a princess? And Mummy's a queen?" Miranda asked Sherlock, her brown eyes large in wonder.

"It does indeed. Your Mummy and I call each other prince and princess. Therefore, you and your brother are as well," he whispered conspiratorially. "But don't say anything to Uncle John, or he'll get jealous."

She nodded. "Uncle John is a knight," she whispered back.

"The very bravest of knights."

Miranda nodded enthusiastically, beaming. "Does he slay dragons and stuff? Does that make Aunt Mary a princess too? 'Cause knights rescue princesses."

"So many questions! Are you always this inquisitive, hmm?"

She giggled. "Silly Daddy. _You_ told me to ask questions..."

"I did, didn't I? Never let Uncle Mycey tell you otherwise. He can be _such_ a bore."

Miranda frowned. "He's not boring. He's funny! And cuddly! And he makes Grampa smile."

"He's dull and vapid and makes fun of your Daddy all the time."

Her frown deepened. "'Cause you make fun of him first. You be nice to Uncle Mycey, Daddy," she said, hands on her hips, shaking a finger at him in her very best disapproving expression.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Molly, I do believe our daughter is telling me off!"

"If it's about being mean to Mycroft, good on her. You should listen."

"Is _everyone_ against me on this?"

"Well, it _would_ be better if you didn't antagonize him as much," said John.

The scholar glared at everyone. "I'll be in the library."

Molly grabbed his hand as he stalked off, pulling him aside. "They're just trying to help you both out, my love," she murmured.

"Yes, but now? It's just a bit of fun, and if it weren't for the children and you, we'd be home right now, alone. You _know_ I dislike family gatherings."

"Yes, but you know how rarely they get to see the children. And this is for coming, even though I know you loathe family gatherings," she said, before kissing him soundly on the mouth.

Groaning, Sherlock pulled her close and backed her against the wall, easily taking control. "We don't- get to do this- nearly enough." he murmured between kisses

"Sh- _Sherlock_ ," she gasped as his clever mouth hit a particularly sensitive spot on her throat.

He laved the skin with his tongue, nipping and scraping his teeth along the skin. "Yes?" he purred.

"As much as I - _ah_!- want to... we can't. Everyone's waiting on us..." she murmured.

"Not even- something fast?" he smirked

She shivered at his smirk. "No, not that. And I _really_ don't think you want Mycroft to figure out what we've been doing," she said, her face flushed as she moved away. Then her eyes went alight and she leaned in close, her mouth brushing his ear. "But... when we get home..." she whispered, a promise in the words unsaid.

Sherlock growled, pulling Molly back flush against him and kissing her neck again, more gently so as not to leave a mark. "I'll hold you to that, Ophelia."

She arched into him, feeling exactly how much he _wanted_ to hold her to it right that moment. "And I will keep my _word_ , my Hamlet," she said, punctuating 'word' with a slight shift against him.

A slight gasp escaped his lips, and he smiled. "Ohhh, my dearest maiden, I'll make you _mine_ , ravish you until the sun rises... but we should return. Those two will be missing you," he finished, stepping away. Molly nodded, going slightly weak in the knees at his own promise. she regained her composure before following Sherlock into the dining room.

oOoOo

The others were already settled at the dinner table, the children eagerly begging to be allowed to eat and Mycroft patiently trying to explain manners; it was not going over very well, especially when Rosie decided to throw a meatball at Miranda. The little girl's eyes went wide and wet with tears as the food stained her most favorite white jumper. Scowling, her brows furrowing, she stood up, took her plate over and dumped the spaghetti on top of Rosie's head. Shrieking, the blond haired girl took great handfuls of her food and started throwing, not much caring where they landed or who they hit.

It ended when the parents of the respective girls grabbed them by the arms and led them away from the table for a very stern talking-to, washing up and a long, long time out. "I'm so sorry, Dad," Molly said, fretting, as she started to clean the flung spaghetti from the walls. "I thought she'd be better behaved than this."

"Well, you have to admit, Rosie _did_ start it-"

"Yes, for which she is getting privileges revoked," said John, looking sternly at his daughter. "I'm sorry, Molly, I don't know why Rosie did that," he said.

Molly smiled at him. "No worries, John. Children do tend to do these things, and the stain will come out in the wash with some bleach," she said, patting his shoulder.

"Randa was making fun of my curls," Rosie pouted, eyes big and full of tears and her lip sticking out and pouting as she stared up as John.

"Was not!" Miranda protested hotly. "I said they looked like piggie tails, and that piggies are cute! She threw a meatball at me 'cause she didn't like my compament!"

"I don't have piggie tails!" Rosie Watson shrieked, attempting to throw herself at Miranda, her valiant effort easily thwarted by her father.

Miranda started to cry. "Sh-she thinks I'm bein' mean bu-but I'm not! I promise! I wish _my_ hair was curly like Rosie's," she wailed.

Sherlock stepped in, scooping up his daughter and carrying her to the library. "Back in a minute," he mouthed at Molly before disappearing with the girl. Once he'd shut the door, Sherlock sat down with Miranda on his knees, bouncing her slightly. "Now then, what _is_ all this fuss about?" He'd learned very early on that he had to ask Miranda questions and not deduce her. She liked to tell the stories for herself.

The little girl sniffled and hiccupped. "Rosie thinks I'm bein' mean because I said her hair was curly, like how piggie's tails are. But I'm not bein' mean! I want curly hair like Rosie's! An'-an'-an' then she threw a meatball at me..." she managed to say.

"Why do you want curly hair, princess?"

"'Cause it's prettier than my hair. Mine is black and boring and straight like Mummy's," she said, now settling into an almighty sulk.

Shaking his head, Sherlock tucked his finger under his daughter's chin. "Now, my dear princess, have you ever noticed how your hair gets wavy when wet?"

She nodded warily, wondering just where her Daddy was going with all of this.

"Well, you get that from me. My hair is very curly, but your Mummy's is straight... straight because it's very heavy. Your Mummy likes her hair long, but if your hair were shorter, it might curl up like mine. Now, it'll not be the tight little ringlets that Rosie has, but it would be curly. You would _have_ to let Mummy or me do it, though. If I discover you cutting your own hair, then all of the art supplies will be locked away in the cupboard until you can be responsible."

Miranda thought on this and nodded. "All right," she said, snuggling into her father. "Thank you, Daddy."

The scholar held her close, rocking gently as he stroked her hair. "You're welcome, my little princess Miranda," he replied.

She was quiet for a short while before her stomach let out a loud grumble. "Can I go back and eat, please?" she asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"Can you apologize and not throw food?"

Miranda nodded. "Never wanted to throw it in the first place, but Rosie started it," she muttered.

"And you certainly helped finish it. Run along now."

Miranda climbed off of her father's lap and made her way to Rosie, who was still sulking in a corner. She tapped the little blonde girl on the shoulder.

The young Watson girl turned, glaring. "Whad'you want?" she muttered, clutching her hair protectively

Miranda looked downcast. "Wanted to say m' sorry," she said.

Biting her lip, Rosie slowly stuck out her hand. "'I cept your pology."

Miranda's eyes brightened and she ignored the handshake to give the shorter girl a bearhug. "Good. I would've hated it if you were mad at me f'rever," she said.

"Can't be mad frever. Friends, remember?"

Miranda nodded happily. "Let's go eat. I'm _starving_!" she said, holding Rosie's hand as they skipped their way to the table, all arguments forgotten.

Dinner went on without a hitch after that, the children behaving and the adults managing to take a few bites without having to referee arguments. When it came time to clean everything up, Sherlock and John knelt beside their daughters. "Since you two have done so well since apologizing, would you like a sleepover?"

Their little eyes widened. "Really?! Y'mean it?!" Miranda asked, her voice going up an octave with glee.

John grinned, tweaking Rosie's nose. "Uncle Greg and Uncle Myc said you can stay the night. We'll come pick you up in the morning. You'll get the spare room and your jamjams and everything you need are here."

Rosie jumped up and down with Miranda, both of them squealing and making plans on what videos they wanted to watch, debating over "The Princess and the Frog" or "Beauty and the Beast" (the latter winning out nearly as soon as it was suggested).

Sharing a glance and a smirk with John, Sherlock stood and said his goodbyes, the two couples heading down the drive as quickly as they could; little William had to come home with Sherlock and Molly, but he'd sleep very well tonight.

oOoOo

Molly was tucking William into his crib, humming a soft lullaby as she pressed a gentle kiss to his fine baby curls. She shut the door slightly before smirking and making her way to hers and Sherlock's bedroom. After all... she had a promise to keep.


End file.
